Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Imagine!

I recently spent two days celebrating with a wonderful friend as she turned 100. She was a schoolteacher, a farmer’s wife, a gardener and, when in her 30s, learned to pilot a small plane. She and her husband were married for 70 years. Lora still loves to fish, lives alone, reads and drives her car without the aid of glasses, will admit (reluctantly) to being a little hard of hearing, but is still sharp of mind and good of heart. Here’s a portrait of her for Totally Optional Prompt’s suggestion: write about a person.

Lora Remembers

100 years of mornings,of sunrises that spilled liquid golddown Vermont’s rugged hillsides;dew that sparkled on a millionsummer spider webs; a cow’s warmbreath on her hands and the warmer milk; fishing the wily creeks and stillponds at her father’s side; running up the hill to school;McGuffy’s First Reader and lunch in a blue lard bucket; boarding as the teacher;rain that turned dirt roads to mud; riding a hay rake, a baler, a plow;70 years of marriage, of cooking andwashing and mending, of quilting and knitting and sewing; driving a Model-T;flying solo in a small plane; barn raisings and song fests and gramophones and new-fangled radios; television and jet planesand a cruise to Alaska 85 years afterthat first morning 100 years ago.

She remembers 100 years of evenings, of listening to the nightjar whistle, of scarlet sunsets and sparking fireflies;dashing to the half-moon door in the darkness; carrying a lantern up the coldback stairs; woodstoves and hand pumpsand knee-deep snows; sugaring-off in spring;summer nights so hot you slept on a blanket on the lawn; darkness so pure you could count the stars; nights of terror when firestruck; nights of music and dancing, of kitchen junkets;of family suppers; lonely nights, nights of weepingand missing her man; nights of wondering, ponderingthe future, the meaning of it all; nights of rememberingfamily and old friends gone on before—

19 comments:

oh pauline. it's absolutely lovely, I read it out loud, it was so like singing.

I've worked on the fate of stars but unless I mess with it (and then it's not the fate of stars) or learn how to do some sort of madrigal or something, I hate to say I can't arrange it to sing the way I wanted to, it's too bad because I love the two moons, the two queens.

in any case I'm so pleased I came by to read, even though it's past 11 and I need to go to sleep. hope you're walking more comfortably lately.

Hello Shara! I am impressed that you even thought you could sing the fate of stars poem - it was my first and clumsy attempt at that form. I am still not walking comfortably but have an appointment with the foot doctor next week to discuss further treatment.

i can absolutely not fathom so long a life.. i am not even half way there and some days it is more than i can bear.. i wonder sometimes what it is that people like your friend posses that i do not.. i cannot say i am envious.. but i wonder never the less...

this was so touchingly written... so detailed,, so personal.. i just loved it....

Beautiful account of a wonderful life. She is truly inspirational that she is looking forward still! The things she has seen in her lifetime! I have trouble doing that (lokking ahead with hope for health etc.) sometimes but my dad, at 88, is getting a new fishing rod for the annual spring fishing trip in 3 weeks!!

What a beautiful photograph of two beautiful women! What a treasure to have a 100 year old friend, and one so sharp and present and brimming over with life. Your poem is gorgeous and I felt the heavy weight and light joy of each of those 100 years. Thanks so very much for this. xoxo